


Gettin' Everybody Fired Up

by rockinhamburger



Series: A Universe Where Prop 8 And Other Related Homophobic State Laws Have Long Been Defeated [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockinhamburger/pseuds/rockinhamburger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine finds Kurt's Cheerios uniform when they've moved into their brand new house. He is intrigued. So is Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gettin' Everybody Fired Up

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for valentina_says over at LJ.
> 
> The title for this was yanked from Gwen Stefani's 'Hollaback Girl'.

Kurt snags the last three boxes from the trunk of his Lexus, slams the lid down with his elbow, and starts toward the front path. Distracted by the always exciting sight of his brand new house, Kurt feels the box on top start to slide sideways.

He spots Blaine coming out the open door and shouts, “Blaine! Box on top! Quick!” and stops at the foot of the stairs. He’s too nervous to take another step.

Blaine stretches one long leg down on to the third step and grabs all three boxes from Kurt’s arms. “I got this,” he says, turning around and heading back into the house.

Kurt stares after him, put out. He’s not some lady-boy who can’t carry a couple boxes; he only needed Blaine’s help with the box on top. He brushes it off with a sigh and climbs the stairs, crossing over the threshold with almost careful steps. He wants to savour this moment, where everything’s finally moved in and the house really belongs to him.

With a thrill of excitement, Kurt corrects himself: it’s not just his house, it’s his _and Blaine’s_ house. They own it together.

Only the latest in a long line of political changes that have occurred in the eight years since Kurt graduated from high school. While some US States still have operating bans on same-sex marriage, a vast majority of States have become progressive enough to allow two men or women who love each other to marry, co-own real estate, and even make medical decisions for their significant other in the event of an Emergency.

Even adoption by gay parents is legal in 23 States, Kurt reminds himself, including, most significantly, New York State. Which is, also significantly, where he and Blaine reside presently.

Kurt shakes himself out of his reverie and inhales the scent of their new home. He has to close his eyes and just bask in this moment; take it all in. One day, maybe, he’ll be telling his future children –

Kurt snaps his eyes open and ruffles his hair. Wondering where Blaine’s got to, he peers into the half-decorated living room and searches for Blaine amidst the boxes strewn about.

He doesn’t find Blaine in the kitchen or the dining room, either, but after climbing the hardwood-floored staircase, he finally locates his husband sitting on their enormous bed and staring down at the somehow still-pristine Cheerios uniform shirt in his hands.

He looks up when Kurt’s footsteps stop at the bedroom door, and he’s wearing a sexy, amused smile that lights up his whole face and makes Kurt’s chest feel suddenly tight.

Sometimes Kurt’s genuinely shell-shocked by how much he’s still in love with this man, even after nearly ten years of being together.

“You still have this?”

Kurt can’t tear his eyes away from Blaine’s calculating gaze as he says, “Obviously,” without even a trace of his usual dry wit. It comes out uncertain instead, like he’s walking a field littered with holes that he has to navigate by heart alone.

Blaine looks down at the shirt again, and when he looks up his eyes are alight with the same mischievous nature of his smile. “Try it on for me?” he asks.

Kurt feels inexplicably light-headed at the request, and he’s not sure why. He hasn’t grown that much in the last eight years; it would still fit pretty well. If he could rock it in high school he could rock it now. But…

There’s something about the uniform that feels almost… taboo.

And just as he’s about to refuse, a tiny voice in his head speaks up, _Why not? What’s the harm?_

He crosses to Blaine in two strides and takes it from him with hands that are unexpectedly gentle with the material.

Why _has_ he kept it all these years?

He retrieves the red pants from the box Blaine must have found the shirt in and goes into their bathroom to change. With slow, uncoordinated movements, he takes off his designer jeans and Hummel™ shirt and folds them in turn, laying them carefully on the immaculate counter beside the sink.

He meets his own gaze in the mirror above the sink.

Kurt was very explicit in his insistence on owning a house with a large bathroom consisting of two sinks, two mirrors, and veritable counter space. Kurt outright refused the first fifteen houses they looked at on bathroom merits alone, which was, Kurt knows, extremely taxing for Blaine however much he tried to hide his annoyance.

But, Kurt reasons, Blaine knew full well how high-maintenance Kurt was about certain things (okay, most things) when he proposed. He did promise to take both the good and the bad when they exchanged vows, and Kurt’s anal-retention about bathrooms certainly factors in.

Kurt rolls his eyes at his errant train of thought and changes into the Cheerios uniform. It only takes a few seconds, but the feeling of putting the uniform on that first time, and the memory to go with, floods in and makes the process seem heavy with weight.

Kurt rolls his shoulders back a couple times, fluffs his bangs, and turns around. He grabs the doorknob and twists it, pushing into the bedroom and locking eyes with Blaine immediately.

Blaine stands up abruptly. “It still fits,” he says, smiling slowly.

Kurt puts his hands on his hips. “Got the eye-full you wanted? Can I take it off now?”

“Can _I_ take it off?” Blaine says in a rush, taking a step forward.

Kurt aborts his former stance and fights the urge to take a step back. Blaine’s looking at him like…

Well, kind of like Puck used to look at Santana and Brittany.

Only about a thousand times hotter.

Kurt’s not really sure what to do with his hands; they’re itching to reach out and touch. He feels like a teenager again, desperately wanting but never allowed, always scorned, ever frustrated.

Except, of course, he _can_ touch. And want and have and take whatever the hell he desires, and right now he wants Blaine to peel his uniform off and fuck him on their brand new bed. Give it a proper Christening.

“I don’t know,” Kurt breathes. “Can you?”

Blaine licks his lips and advances on Kurt, eyebrows raised. “Oh, I can,” he whispers, resting the weight of his perfect hand on Kurt’s shoulder blade. Kurt shivers, even after all this time, and waits as Blaine leans in.

Blaine stops about a centimetre away from Kurt’s lips and says, “Want to tear it off with my teeth,” in a low voice that makes Kurt’s dick throb in reply.

Kurt surges against Blaine and fuses their mouths together, licking his way inside. He cradles Blaine’s face and kisses him so forcefully that their teeth clack together. Blaine lets out a snarl and wrenches his mouth away to bite down on Kurt’s collarbone. Kurt whimpers and clutches at the soft strands of Blaine's hair, yanking so hard he's sure he pulled a few free from the scalp.

Blaine groans and actually lifts Kurt off the ground. Kurt wraps his legs around Blaine’s waist to compensate for their lack of balance, and then Blaine’s striding across the room to lay Kurt down on the bed.

Kurt throws his hands up and drags Blaine on top of him by the collar of his shirt. Blaine stops himself from crushing Kurt with a hand on either side of Kurt’s head and one knee between Kurt’s spread legs. “Get these clothes off now,” Kurt orders, thrusting up against the Blaine’s thigh and hissing at the friction against his cock.

Blaine’s mouth falls open, and he gasps out a choked off moan. Then he shoves Kurt’s shirt up and licks over one of Kurt’s nipples. Kurt cries out and fists a hand in Blaine’s hair, hips twitching. Blaine grabs Kurt’s wrists in each of his hands and fixes them to the pillow above Kurt’s head, holding them in place with one hand, all the while tonguing Kurt’s other, neglected nipple. Kurt thrashes and tries to wrap his legs around Blaine’s waist, but it’s difficult with Blaine’s free hand holding down the nearest one.

Blaine drags his teeth up the column of Kurt's throat and dips his tongue in the hollow between his collar bones, and Kurt moans. He moves up to close his teeth around Kurt’s bottom lip (Kurt keens in the back of his throat) and says, in a voice that’s all gravel, “I’m gonna rip this shirt off, and you’re gonna keep your hands up there. Got it?” Kurt feels his dick twitch in his pants and moans brokenly, nodding his head frantically.

He _really_ feels like a teenager now.

Blaine drags the shirt up and over Kurt’s head and arms and chucks it over his shoulder. His hand closes around Kurt’s wrists again, and he’s sucking a mark into the pulse of Kurt's throat. Kurt lets out a whimper, and cries out, “Blaine, please!”

Blaine sinks his teeth in.

Kurt _screams_.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, Kurt, so fucking hot,” he rasps, right in Kurt’s ear, and Kurt sobs into the air, so fucking turned on.

“Pleaseplease _please_!” he begs, trying in vain to thrust up against Blaine’s hips. “I need it, I need you!”

Blaine flicks the button of Kurt’s pants open. Kurt moans in relief as Blaine eases the zipper down and tugs the pants and underwear off in jerky movements, slowed by the use of only one hand. Kurt would help, but…

He lifts his legs slightly and Blaine yanks them off, and that’s when Kurt finally gets his legs around Blaine’s hips. He thrusts right up against the bulge in Blaine’s jeans, and Blaine loses himself for a moment in meeting each of Kurt’s thrusts with perfect synchronization.

Roughly eight years' worth of solid practice.

It’s the breaking moment for Kurt, though, who sits up and undoes Blaine’s pants, trying to pull them down without bothering with the zipper. Blaine adjusts on the bed to remove his pants and underwear completely and kneels to pull his shirt over his head, which finds a home on their bedroom floor.

Kurt reaches for Blaine’s dick, closes his hand around it and flicks his wrist. Blaine shudders and pushes Kurt’s hand away, biting his lip to contain the moan Kurt knows, by muscle memory, is trying to come out. Blaine arranges Kurt’s hands above his head once more and looks down at him.

Time seems to stop, and emotion washes over Kurt, so overwhelming that he has no choice but to whisper, “Kiss me.”

Blaine lowers his head and kisses Kurt gently. It’s slow and sensual, and the urgency from a few moments ago has disappeared, leaving a profound reverence in its wake. Blaine pulls away just enough to look Kurt in the eye, and then he lets go of Kurt’s hands and places them on Kurt’s ribcage. Kurt traces his own hands, newly freed, down Blaine’s throat, chest, and finally lets them rest over Blaine’s rapid heartbeat.

“I’m still so in love with you,” Kurt says thickly.

Blaine drags a calloused hand up Kurt’s inner thigh; Kurt tightens them on reflex, swallowing around the lump in his throat, and Blaine exhales shakily. “Every single day I wonder what the hell I did to – to be able to kiss you and wake up next to you and know I’m home.”

Kurt has to kiss him. How can he not?

He breaks the kiss after a heated moment to mutter, “Can we please have sex now?”

Blaine whisper-laughs and pecks Kurt on the cheek. “Oh yeah.”

He stretches across Kurt to grab the lube on the bedside table (Kurt might have put it there so they’d know precisely where it was at all times) and returns in seconds to lift Kurt’s hips and hold them up with one hand on the small of Kurt’s back. Kurt grabs the bottle, pops the lid and squeezes a dollop on to the tip of Blaine’s cock, stroking it a few times to spread the lubricant along the shaft.

Blaine jerks under Kurt's ministrations and bats Kurt’s hand out of the way. He walks forward on his knees, and then he's pressing his hot, insistent cock to Kurt’s entrance. He pushes in with a slow, slick slide that Kurt feels all the way down in his toes. Kurt circles Blaine’s waist with his legs, and now everything’s lined up for Blaine to push all the way in.

They moan in unison. The sound is music to Kurt’s ears.

Blaine pulls partway out, agonizingly slowly, and adjust his hips, thrusting back in at an angle that allows for a harsh jab at Kurt’s prostate. Kurt clenches his eyes shut and just lets himself feel.

It’s on Blaine’s fourth thrust in that he feels the first wave of pleasure cascade over him. Blaine pistons his hips forward while he fists Kurt’s cock, and the combined affect makes Kurt arch up off the bed and shriek.

“Yes, oh god, YES!” Kurt cries, clenching his hands in the comforter beneath his bare skin.

Kurt loses complete track of time. The great thing about not being teenagers anymore is how much more stamina they both have. What would probably have lasted ten or twenty minutes when they were eighteen is more like forty-five or sixty after so much time of knowing each other intimately. Blaine keeps changing the pace and the frequency of his thrusts until Kurt’s shaking and begging for Blaine to finish it.

Blaine finally, _finally_ swirls his thumb around the head of Kurt’s dick as he thrusts in deep and comes with Kurt’s name on his lips, and Kurt opens his mouth on a silent scream of pleasure as everything bottoms out and crescendos to a climax that leaves him moaning and panting uncontrollably.

He sort of loses track of things while Blaine’s cleaning them up, but he comes back to himself when Blaine folds his body around Kurt and kisses the back of Kurt’s neck.

Kurt thinks he and Blaine should take a power nap before tackling the horrid task of unpacking and decorating. And Kurt’s almost asleep when a random thought occurs to him. “Shit,” he groans, “I left my football uniform in my dad’s old attic!”

Blaine inhales sharply, a clear sign he was on the verge of sleep as well, and pats Kurt’s chest in a comforting sort of way. “It’s in the costume box,” Blaine mumbles. “Your dad dropped it off years ago right before they moved. Forgot to tell you.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.”

Kurt doesn't want to disturb Blaine's attempt at some much-deserved sleep, but there’s something pressing on his mind.

“Can we-?”

“Save it for a special occasion? Fuck yes we can.”

Kurt’s definitely going to take that nap now. Just as soon as he stops laughing.


End file.
